On guilt

Guilt.

It can be productive, even transformative — when it’s not gluing you in place and setting off the downward spiral that you can’t crawl out from. It’s self-referential. It’s a negative emotional response from missing the mark, for not doing enough, for not being good. You could have done better, you should have done better. It’s feeling bad because of self-criticism for not meeting expectations you set for yourself.

But when and how did I set out those expectation for my conduct in the first place?

It’s an unconscious process, standards are set in place by forces beyond our understanding, several of them, acting pervasively through time and space; we don’t even realize we have entered into an emotionally binding contract until that contract is broken and it’s time to pay up. And then the guilt starts, and it digs and digs.

I feel guilty for ending things so suddenly. But again, that’s my perspective on what happened. Maybe you thought it wasn’t sudden and it went how it usually goes when one person breaks up with another, maybe that timeline for you wasn’t quick or out of the norm at all. My judgement at play again. Or maybe you did feel it was sudden, and on another level, again I’m to blame and I feel guilt, for not having communicated earlier when I wasn’t satisfied about things, as they occurred. I didn’t speak up time and time again throughout our months, and I went on like everything was fine and like I liked our arrangement and I was unbothered by the boundaries you stated and the type of connection we were having and the way we were talking. To you, it seemed like I was agreeable and on board with the whole thing. You had no idea, you couldn’t have known that I felt differently. That I was slowly being turned over time, slowly building the wall each time I wasn’t satisfied and bit my tongue. I feel guilty for not having spoken up as things were happening — if I had, maybe the breakup wouldn’t have come off as sudden to you, so you wouldn’t have been that surprised or hurt or upset by it.

Ok, so I feel guilty for ending things in a way that I thought would make you upset and confused because it may have come off as sudden to you.

But were you even upset and confused? Extrapolating, I’d like to think yes of course, because I was feeling all those things too and I would imagine someone usually feels those things when they’re broken up with. But maybe your level of attachment wasn’t that strong, the depth of your feelings not explored and picked apart to the same extent that mine were, your grip not turning white from trying to hold onto me. Maybe you were a little frustrated and thought sure, I liked her well enough and I’ll miss hanging out with her, and the next day thought of it a bit and the 3rd day even less, and by the end of the week I hadn’t crossed your mind all day. Who’s to say you were upset and confused? That was me, setting the expectation that you would have felt that way, and judging myself for having caused you that supposed negative emotion with my actions.

What was I expecting of myself in that situation? What implicit contract did I break with myself?

My subconscious expectation was, when breaking up with someone, you state your feelings and reasons as clearly and concisely and truthfully as possible. Then I think, I should have let you down gently, built the wall brick by brick over several weeks instead of dropping a pre-made impenetrable concrete block in between us. I think maybe the door should have been left open for a friend to come through, for a fuck buddy to come through, for some version of you to come through, just not a boyfriend-shaped version of you to come through.

Or on another level, maybe I was expecting and wanting myself to have had the kind of secure communication skills to clearly express my frustration or disagreement or lack of enthusiasm for certain things about your behavior or decisions in a timely manner, in the moment they occurred. I should have said something at the time instead of keeping it in until finally the concrete wall was airdropped in place, fully finished. Yea, I’m upset with myself for not having had the presence and balls to say when I didn’t like something or when I wanted something different in the moment. I’m upset with myself for compromising my needs and desires to conform to yours. I should have been more secure throughout our relationship. Those are the expectations I had for myself, that I didn’t live up to — those expectations for my conduct that led to the situation where I felt like I had no choice but to do something that seemed sudden. Taking the long way out in that pivotal moment would have been even more painful, dragging it out more than I had already been, silently, privately.

But were those expectations that I subconsciously had for my behavior throughout our relationship even realistic for me?

Me, someone that knew she has attachment issues, who had repeatedly struggled with confrontation, with being vocal when she was expressing discontent or disagreement or frustration. Me, someone who was top people-pleaser of the year 25 years running and never skipped a year. Me, someone who had never been in a relationship before and who was baffled that this one was even happening when it did and trying my best to ride out the amazing times with a seemingly amazing guy, trying to hold on for dear life to this connection that seemed like it would never be surpassed. Me, a girl with minimal experience in romantic relationships, dating during a pandemic with restrictions on how and when and where we could meet up, with attachment issues that I was just beginning to address and challenge but that were not remotely fixed, with a history of tongue-biting, who breaks into sweat and has heart palpitations at even the thought of having to confront someone with negative feelings towards them. Realistically, for me, I was bound to fail. It was an idealized version of me that I was holding myself accountable to without having really gone through and done the work to balance myself out a bit, to make it more likely that I could be the kind of person I was setting as my standard.

What I expected, was to have a textbook, perfect relationship on my first try — makes sense now that it’s starting me in the face, it’s so on-brand for me. Perfectionistic, can-do-no-wrong, takes mistakes SO harshly and blames herself, etc. Textbook me, of course I had those same exceedingly high standards in place for my behavior in a relationship. Just as I had expected of myself so many times, consistently, before. If I would make a mistake and receive feedback for it, I’d take it so hard — my stomach would drop, my heart would race, I’d feel bad for days and weeks after. The reaction never matched the severity of the mistake, so I knew deep down I was being triggered and there was something deeper, more sinister at play, every time this happened.

And that’s the thing — it didn’t happen often. Because I had built it within my belief system that being good and doing the right thing was expected always — that was how I’d avoid bad things, because I had to avoid bad things, because there was no room for me to bring bad things into the family dynamic because there was already so much bad and how could I possibly add to it. There was no room for my bad, so I obliterated it. Tried my hardest to eradicate it. Held myself to the most stringent of standards and for the most part, met those expectations. But oh, the times when I didn’t, I really punished myself for it. I didn’t know that it was necessary, even beneficial, to make mistakes. In my world, it was perfection, glowing feedback, instant and all-encompassing knowledge from the beginning with no wiggle room. There was no space (read: compassion, forgiveness, grace) for doubt, knowledge gaps, trial and error — those things were not included in the standard package for me. It was all good or nothing good. This is the years-long pattern of behavior in the relationship to myself that I was bringing into my first romantic relationship. The bar was set exceedingly, inaccessibly high, by yours truly, and I did not meet the mark. Not even close.

One half of me feels like screaming, “OF COURSE I DIDN’T WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING” and the other half of me wants to pat that half on the back and say, “This is another way in which you’re guilting yourself — by thinking that you should have known better than to strive for 10/10 in the first go, you’re enacting right now the very behavior you’re writing about”. And so it goes, round and round. Some evolved corner of my “self” stands firmly and whispers, “Get off the merry go round, take a pause. You’re becoming aware of these patterns and with understanding, there is room for acceptance with growth. Focus on that”. The rest of me will do its best to listen.

And that’s where I am now. I am doing the work to create balance, to make it more likely that I become the kind of person I held myself accountable to. Sprinkle in a little self-compassion and forgiveness and I’m almost there.

I sense the irony in writing this — my new goal, a balanced, compassionate, integrated woman, possibly yet another exceedingly high, unattainable goal — once again, setting myself up for guilt when I don’t meet the mark.

Change the goal, you say? How about a person who tries their best to take active steps in working towards such a lofty goal, a person who is process-focused instead of goal-oriented.

Ok, so I pivot. I focus on building habits that make it more likely that I may one day, become the kind of person I want to be. Focus on the daily moments where you have an opportunity for asserting yourself, for sharing your opinion, for expressing discontent, for sitting with your negative emotions and disclosing them to the person they’re in regards to, for opening up in a new way to someone old, for forgiving yourself when you didn’t meet the mark, for focusing on learning from a misstep.

Focus on the bit-by-bits, and watch the pennies add up.